Philip Marlowe Doesn't Live Here Anymore
by HiBob
Summary: I didn't like this story, but a good friend did. She asked me to repost it, to see what reaction it gets. This was my attempt at Literary Noir.


Title: PHILIP MARLOWE DOESN'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE

by: HiBob

  
  


Disclaimer: All the usual denials.

  
  


Authors Note: This story was posted once before, but I didn't think it was very popular. Then I had a request from a good friend to post it again. I reread the story, and got rid of a few spelling errors, and polished it a bit, but it is still very much the same story. 

I should warn you, the noir style of this story is not the norm for most fanfictions. The average English teacher will have a fit. I think that is one of the reasons I wrote this story.

  
  


Fancy Quote: "Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, pompous in the grave."

  
  
  
  


I show up at right time, at least at the time I wanted to. I don't know if my plan will work, but I know it is my choice to pick the plan. Of course I picked my plan. Then the dame, Minerva, I think, walks in. She's rattled by the guy behind her, she doesn't notice any difference between me and the guy she's expecting. So far, so good.

The guy she's bringing in could win an ugly contest hands down, and that alone would give anybody the creeps. Both he and I know that the only thing uglier than his face is the guy sitting behind it, but the ball's in my court.

Minerva looks scared and stutters a word I recognize as professor. I tell her it's okay and to send Tom right on in. "And Toots," I tell her, "take those other guys for some coffee. Tommy and I have a few things to discuss."

Everybody knows something's wrong but nobody knows what. That's what makes confusion such a wonderful thing. People do what you tell them, 'cause they think they still got the upper hand, and they want to see what your game is. So, in short order, Tommy and I are alone, I'm sticking a cigar in my mouth, from a box I brought with me, and I offer him one. Then he spits out the line I'm waiting for. "What kind of fool do you think I am?"

I'm thinking all along he's a big one, and right now I figure it's time to confuse him some more. "Mind if I take this off," I say, pointing to my face. Without waiting for an answer, I pull off the fake mustache. As Tommy takes the time to look like he's not surprised, I peal off the beard and lose the pointy hat.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"What do you care?" I tell him back, "you gonna kill me or do we talk?"

Tommy takes the bait. He stands up, pulling out his wand, and says yeah, he's gonna kill me. I've got my hand in my pocket all ready for him, and as he shouts out his curse I flip on my electric shaver. He doesn't even finish and it all goes kabloowee right in his face. He's stunned for the moment.

See, a lot of wizards and witches know that magic and electricity don't mix, things go haywire. What they don't realize is that things don't just mean electrical things, but magical things as well. So, not only is my shaver fried, Tommy's spell is, too.

I'm not thinking this at the time, I just throwing this in so you know why what just happened, happened. What I am doing is reaching into my other pocket and pulling out my .45. I don't stop to make small talk or chitchat, I just point the Magnum straight at Tommy's head and pulled the trigger.

Tommy stands there for a moment with this little hole in his forehead. I can't describe the back of his head because it ain't there no more. Then, what's left of Tommy's brain finally gets the hint that it's dead, and he falls down. I take off the robe and throw it over his ugly mug. I put the .45 back into the holster under my arm, and reach into the bag I brought with me. Putting on my Trench Coat and Fedora, I walk out of Dumbledore's office.

I'm walking around this school. It's a lot bigger than I thought. Suddenly, my luck improves as a kid comes running around the corner. He stops when he sees me. I tell him, "it's okay, I'm one of the good guys." He nods but he doesn't run. Smart kid. I tell him to take me to the Great Hall. I got business there and I'm tired of wasting time. Kid's nervous but he shows me. As soon as I spot the entrance, I let him scat. He's scared, but he ain't stupid enough to go in there. Me, I got no choice.

A couple of bully boys stand at the entrance. "Hi, guys, boss sent me," I tell them. These guys know nothing and they let me in. I see a room full of scared kids, first thing. Then I see the teachers all in a line at the staff table, with the rest of the bully boys behind them. Everybody is staring at me. It's Showtime, again.

I walk up to the bully boys, saying nothing until I'm about as far away as I can spit on the closest one, and I'm a damned good spitter, so I got room to move. I talk loud enough so everyone can hear. I got great voice projection, and the acoustics in this hall are the best I've seen in a long time. (I know, you hear the acoustics, but I hate nitpickers.)

"I just iced your boss, guys. Who wants to be next?" They look at me, stunned. Before they can react, I look at the kids. "Okay, boys and girls," I call out, "Who has their wands? Hold 'em up." That's the beauty of dealing with kids. Everyone thinks they're kids, right, they can't do anything. So what happens. Just about every kid pulls out his or her wand, and holds it up. Plus, they ain't scared anymore. They figured out what happened faster than the bully boys.

Then the bully boys figure it out. There are maybe two dozen in the room. And they're looking at all them kids, and all them wands. The number two man points himself out by saying nice try, but they still got an army outside.

I tell him, "yeah, but the army's out there, and you're in here. What does that tell you." Then I push them. "What are you going to do?" I ask them, "Your boss is on the permanent night shift. It don't matter what happens, you guys are done."

I'm walking toward them the entire time I talking, until I'm right by this one guy, short with a silver hand. It's touchy, they all think they're goners, and I've picked out the most desperate one.

Number Two is sweating bullets but he ain't no leader. Tommy don't like leaders. They make lousy followers. I ain't worried about him. It's the short guy. There's going to be plenty of trouble if they don't get an out. So I give them one. As I walk by the short guy, he moves. It doesn't matter to me if he was trying something or not, all that mattered was that I was right about him. I do a nice turn around, and my magnum is staring him in the face. "Don't try it," I tell him, and he just stares at me. He's about to break. "If you were to put that wand down," I say to him, "I bet I would forget to stop you from leaving." The dice roll breaks my way. He drops his wand, and bolts for the door. I start to breathe again. The guys who are totally nuts are easy to handle. It's the ones who are borderline that give me the shakes.

It's almost over now. I tell the rest of the bully boys, "I know Tommy's a Rotter." (It's a word I picked up. I like the sound of it.) I tell them I know they were tricked. "After all, who would want to attack a school?" Then I give them the bait. "You guys got to give up your wands right now. If you don't, people will believe you really wanted in on this. And that means the Big House." I shrug my shoulders and tell them, "either that or walk."

And that was it. The bully boys start dropping their wands, and leaving. Number Two, this blond haired guy, makes a dramatic show of breaking his wand. I'd bet even money he has a spare on him. But I collar him and tell him we got work to do. He asks what, and I tell him to go outside and tell that army of his to go home. He just stares. I tell him to go, if they got any questions, I'm on the third floor. He stumbles off.

I know most of the witches and wizards out there will run and hide as soon as they hear the jig is up. But giants are different. They'll want to talk to somebody to see if the can still pick a fight. The third floor is the right height to talk to a giant.

So, one of the teachers takes me up to the third floor. I open up a window and sit out on the sill. I toss my cigar away, and pull another one out of my pocket. Soon enough, a giant comes up. I recognize him, Antonius the Skull Crusher. I did a job for him a while back, checked out what his wife was doing when he was out of town. That's how he got the name Skull Crusher.

"What's the story?" he asks me.

"War's over, everybody packs up and goes home."

"Just like that."

"What can I say," I say, and offer him one of my cigars. It's barely a cigarette to him, but he takes it and lights up.

"Good smoke. Cuban?" he asks. I nod. "See you, then," he says, and leaves.

"See you around, Tony," I say back to him, and I climb back inside.

The teacher is still there. "I'll be right down," I tell him. He nods and leaves.

"So, what do you think, kid," I say to an empty corner.

A kid, sixteen, maybe older, shows up from behind an invisibility cloak. I recognize him as the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I know you had your heart set on being a hero today, but don't you think my way was a lot cleaner?"

He nods his head, agreeing with me.

I hand him my card. "Give me a call if you ever need me. Like if you think your wife's cheating on you. I'll check it out, maybe even get pictures."

He stares at me.

"It's what I do, kid." I tell him. "It pays the bills."

  
  
  
  



End file.
